


and i'd choose you, in a hundred lifetimes

by ednae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ednae/pseuds/ednae
Summary: “I love you.”“In this reality?” Slav guessed.“In every reality."a collection of shlav drabbles i've posted on mytumblr





	1. of insecurities and noodles

**Author's Note:**

> imo none of these are long enough to post by themselves, so i decided to compile them into one collection of drabbles!
> 
> also hmu on my tumblr [@stellunaria](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/) i love talking about shlav :3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/160824675142/of-insecurities-and-noodles)!

“There’s a 99.9% chance I love you in this reality,” Slav cooed into Shiro’s ear as he stroked the human’s body with each of his eight hands.

“What about that other 0.1%?” Shiro asked, lifting a mocking eyebrow.  He might have sounded offended if it hadn’t been for the contented sigh that escaped from his mouth.

“That’s the margin of error in which I merely adore you,” Slav said with a light chuckle.

Shiro hummed his acquiescence, settling into a comfortable silence as Slav massaged his eight tiny hands all over Shiro’s muscular body, up and down with thirty-two talented fingers.

“What about the other realities?”

Slav lifted one of his thin, delicate eyebrows into the air, questioning Shiro’s sudden outburst.  The human’s voice was low and unsure, almost trembling despite his usually steady presence.  Only Slav ever got to see his more vulnerable side, the inside of the purposefully built fortress to keep his emotions safe.

“I mean,” Shiro tried again, breaking off and clearing his throat.  "What about the realities where we aren’t together?“

Slav nodded sagely even though Shiro couldn’t see him through his tightly closed eyes.  "Do you know how many realities there are where we’re not together?”

“No,” Shiro responded, gritting his teeth together.  Slav moved two of his hands to his lover’s jaw to massage away the tension.

“About two hundred seventy-three,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Uh, honey, that doesn’t really make me feel better…”  Shiro sighed a little, letting Slav’s magic fingers melt away his anxiety.

“Do you know how many realities there are where we are together?” Slav asked.

“Uh–”

“An infinite amount.”

Shiro’s eyes snapped open and found Slav’s immediately.  They stared at each other for a moment, trying to map the stars in each other’s eyes.

“And besides,” Slav said, breaking both the silence and their eye contact, “there’s really only one reality that matters: this one.”

Shiro surged upwards, locking his boyfriend in a steamy, passionate kiss.  When he pulled away, he was breathing heavy, his hands digging into Slav’s noodle body as if his life depended on it.

“Thank you.”  Shiro’s eyes were wild with raw emotion, the kind he’d never show in front of any of the other paladins.  It reminded Slav of the time he managed to make Shiro lose his cool, all those years ago when he’d been rescued from Beta Traz.  “I love you.”

“In this reality?” Slav guessed.

“In every reality,” Shiro asserted, wrapping his arms tightly around his noodly alien boyfriend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I shouldn't be in love with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/161727840932/for-the-writing-prompt-18-shiro-and-slav-3-ily)!

It’s one of those nights where Slav is scared and cold and he remembers every violent detail in full green-tinted technicolor.  Each step he takes echoes in his ears until the endless pounding gives him a headache, but he persists as he pads down the hallway toward Shiro’s room.

It’s a habit they started about a month ago, when he’d woken up in a pool of sweat and tears and silent screams.  He’d found Shiro sitting in the common room, anxious and alone, and when they pressed together, silently acknowledging each other’s past and present, they found some semblance of peace.

Tonight, Slav needs that peace again, so he opens the door to Shiro’s room—he’s long since memorized the access code—and sees Shiro already sitting up, staring at the entryway through the darkness as if he’s expecting him.

Slav fidgets under his gaze. “I needed—”

“Me, too,” Shiro says, his voice weak with nerves.  His fingers tap together without rhythm, cutting through the silence like a tiny drum.  Then without prompt, he slides over, giving Slav a place to lay down.  He wastes no time and he’s curled against him, too close for any gaps to separate them, and finally, finally, he can feel himself relaxing.

They don’t speak for a while, but rather exist in this closeness that’s brought them comfort for the months since they’ve started doing this.  He feels Shiro inhale, his chest expanding against his back, and then retreating, each breath more calm and sure than its predecessor.  Slav gathers the blankets between his fingers, clutching at them like he’ll slip away if he loosens his grip.

It’s while Slav is in that place halfway between awake and asleep that he hears Shiro murmur: “This is stupid.”

It takes a moment to register, but when it does, Slav lazily turns his body so he’s facing Shiro.  His eyes are half-lidded, but he can see his stark white tuft of hair clearly in the dark of the room.  He pulls his eyebrows in, no energy to form an actual question.

“It wasn’t supposed to come to this,” Shiro says, and Slav is only more confused.

“What do you mean?” he asks, words slurred together as he struggles to maintain consciousness.

“I  _mean_ ,” he says, his tone frustrated despite his soft whisper, “I shouldn’t be in love with you.”

It wakes Slav up, at least.

“We’re allies, friends, co-workers if you can call it that—” Shiro’s words aren’t direct at anyone anymore, but Slav patiently listens regardless— “but definitely not anything else.”

When there’s a break, Slav clears his throat, hesitantly gazing up at Shiro’s war-torn face.  It’s worn and weary from nights without sleep, skin pallid and drained from stress.  Scars both big and small line his skin, tiny puckered mountains hiding behind unkempt stubble.  Even when he can hardly see him, Shiro looks as beautiful as ever.

“There are infinite realities,” he says, trying to convey novels worth of meaning in those simple words.  "Anything is possible.“

Shiro’s staring back at him now, his brow furrowed together as he contemplates what Slav said.  Then he shudders, all at once pulling back from Slav and sitting up.  "Do you mean…”

At first, Slav thinks he’s gone too far, said too much, and he pulls the blanket toward him, immediately piling it into a familiar shape before he can go further into this unknown territory.  As he’s working the fabric, he nods, not daring to look back up at Shiro.

“Oh.”

It’s short, surprised, and simple, but it seems to convey so much in just that tiny utterance.   _Oh_.

Slav looks up at Shiro and catches his gaze immediately.  There’s a silent understanding in his eyes, and then he’s laying back down, squishing up against the wall to make sure Slav has enough room. He pats the spot next to him and Slav complies, curling back into him.  They’re closer than they’ve ever been before, their physical bodies gripping at each other for dear life, their minds in sync as they learn each other’s feelings.

The anxiety falls away, and with it, Slav’s consciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You weren't supposed to hear that!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/161341172657/78-slavshiro-pls)!

Shiro has his back pressed against a wall, breath still as he listens.  He can’t hold it for much longer, but he has to hear the conversation inside the room.

“—you sure?” Hunk’s faint voice drifts through the metal walls, and another bout of guilt wells in Shiro’s chest.  He knows he’s not supposed to be eavesdropping; that’s hardly a way to keep trust from his teammates.  But he’d heard his name, and…

“There’s only about a two percent chance that I’m wrong about this,” Slav announces, his voice. “And if I am wrong, it’d be wise to seek medical attention.”

Hunk laughs, not unkindly. “You’re not gonna die from this, man.”

“The squeezing of my heart is almost certainly a threat to my health,” Slav says, “and the frequency at which these palpitations occur is rapidly increasing.”

Almost as if in prediction, Shiro’s heart rate speeds up.  He can feel his chest getting tighter as he listens, trying to figure out what the conversation is about.  He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions—there’s no way he’d be right anyway—but the thoughts he’s having don’t seem to listen to reason.

“Well,” Hunk says, drawing Shiro away from the ideas dancing in his head, “I’m sure you’re not sick or anything.  You’re probably right about this.”

“There are still about thirty-three realities in which I am sick and just making all of this up,” Slav counters, and Hunk laughs again.

“That doesn’t mean this is one of those realities.  Go talk to him; tell him how you feel.”

There’s a shuffling behind the door, and Shiro reacts too late.  He pushes himself off the wall in an effort to get as far away as he can, but as the door opens, he trips over his feet and lands face-first onto the metal flooring.

“Shiro?”

He can’t see the Yellow Paladin, but Shiro is sure he looks as concerned as he sounds.  He pushes himself off the floor and turns around slowly, feeling a burning heat creep up his face.

“Hey, guys,” he says, trying to sound as nonchalant as he can after being caught red-handed and subsequently embarrassing himself.

His eyes flicker down to Slav and he’s immediately taken aback by his expression.  His eyes are wide, unblinking, as he stares at Shiro, all eight hands clenched so tightly together that his fingers have lost their color, and he looks small.  Incredibly small, as if he were shrinking in on himself.

Slav knits his brows together and works his beak for a few seconds, trying to get words out.  Then finally, in a tiny, almost imperceptible voice: “Did you…hear that?”

Shiro jerks at the question and shakes his head wildly.  "No!“ he nearly shouts, but then he realizes that it’s useless to deny anything. He relaxes his shoulders and they droop low as he hangs his head to hide his shame.  "Yeah, actually… I was passing by and I heard my name.”

Slav’s face has all but drained itself of its pretty teal coloring.  "You weren’t supposed to hear that!“ he squeaks.

“I know; I’m sorry,” he tries.

Hunk hums a little, turning their attention back to himself.  "Well, it’s not a  _bad_  thing that he heard…”

It piques Shiro’s interest, but he doesn’t want to pry any further.  He stays quiet, hoping that there will be some follow-up to that statement.

Hunk elbows Slav’s side and looks at him with an intense stare, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Tell him now,” he urges, but Slav shakes his head a little bit, an adamant refusal.  Hunk just nods in return, staring him down until Slav crumples under the pressure.

“Fine,” he grumbles.

Hunk beams.  "Great!  I’ll talk to you guys later then!“  He doesn’t give either of them a chance to respond; he just turns his back and walks away, disappearing around a corner and leaving them alone.

There’s a heavy silence in the air that’s practically killing Shiro.  "…So,” he says, trying to cut through the oppressive quiet, “you wanted to tell me something?”

Slav doesn’t say anything for a few loud, thumping beats of Shiro’s heart.  "I would already be dead in about twenty-seven other realities.“

Shiro blinks once, twice, trying to process Slav’s sudden, very alarming statement.  "Excuse me?”

Slav clears his throat. “Well, it is dangerous for heart palpitations to exceed two hundred beats per minute, and the lightheadedness is almost certainly cause for worry.  Then there’s the clenching of my heart, which has an eighty-seven percent chance of signifying a fatal heart condition, and not to mention the intrusive thoughts—”

“Hang on,” Shiro snaps, cutting him off.  "What are you talking about?“  He can feel the irritation rising within him, but he forces himself to take slow, even breaths to keep himself calm.

“I thought I had contracted a serious illness, or perhaps developed heart disease, but then I realized it only happened around you and I realized: aha! It wasn’t a disease after all!”  Slav isn’t looking at Shiro anymore, but the flush on his face and his ceaseless babbling gives more away than eye contact would, anyway.

Shiro can hear his pulse pounding in his ears, beating like drums over Slav’s words as he desperately tries to rationalize what Slav’s saying.  There’s no way he’s saying what Shiro  _thinks_  he’s saying…right?  It was just wishful thinking.

“At least, it’s not in this reality.  The other thirty-three result in me dying in a bloody, unfortunate heart rupture.”

Shiro grimaces at the image that forms in his mind.

“But in this reality,  _supposedly_ —” he says the word as if he doesn’t believe it himself, “—I’m actually just experiencing what you humans call…a crush.”

Shiro’s world comes to a halt for just a moment, though it feels more like an eternity.  He thinks he heard it right, but he can’t be sure. A crush?  He stares at Slav for a moment.  He’s open and vulnerable, babbling in a voice that Shiro can’t comprehend, waiting for Shiro to respond.  Shiro tries to do something, anything, but Slav’s words still haven’t processed, and Shiro can’t possibly understand what he’s supposed to do.

Then suddenly it clicks, and the standstill becomes a rush of time and everything is happening at once. He surges forward, catching Slav off guard as he leans down into the Bytor, pressing his lips awkwardly against his beak for what seems to be only a second.

When he pulls away, his face is beet red and he’s breathing heavily, his heart beating a mile a minute. Slav says nothing, but he toys with his fingers as he watches Shiro, shell-shocked and dazed.

Shiro clears his throat and tries to maintain eye contact.  "Yeah…me, too.“


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: slav tries coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/160847935357/concept-slav-tries-coffee)!

Shiro chuckles, a warm, hearty sound that melts Slav’s insides, just like the liquid is almost definitely melting the foam cup in front of him. “Here you go.”

Slav stares at the drink. it’s brown and muddy-looking, and there’s visible steam rising off the surface.  “In about 47 realities, i’ve already died from drinking something so hot.”

“Well obviously, that’s not this reality, since you’re still alive,” Shiro says, his tone forgiving even as he rolls his eyes.  “It’s good, just try it.”

Tentatively, Slav wraps one of his 8 hands around it and lifts it up.  The foam does a magnificent job of keeping the heat from reaching his fingers, which soothes his nerves, if only a little.  He brings the cup to his soft beak and sips slowly, praying that the heat won’t burn his tongue and kill him.

The coffee, as Shiro called it, hits his tongue in a burst of warmth, but surprisingly, it doesn’t sting.  In fact, the drink is rather good.  The bitterness contrasts spectacularly with whatever sweetener was added, and the froth tickles his beak as he sips.

He takes a few more mouthfuls before lightly setting the cup down.  He’s pondering the aftertaste when Shiro interjects: “Well? how was it?”

Slav quirks an eyebrow and glaces at Shiro out of the corner of his eye, his beak twisting into a shape the humans might call a smile, or the Bytor equivalent of such.  “It was all right, i guess.”

Shiro smirks back.  “Told you so.”

“Of course, there’s still the 80% chance that i could spill this on me and burn to death, and not to mention the 382 other realities where the bitter taste was too much to handle, and–”

“Whoa, calm down,” Shiro says with a laugh, and Slav slumps back in his seat, relaxing instantly.  Something about that laugh always seemed to ground him in his current reality.

“I’m just saying,” Slav quipped, but it lacked any sort of real heat.

“I know, I know.  and _I’m_ just saying…” Shiro said, grinning widely at him.  “That I was right. Again.”

Slav rolled his eyes at Shiro in a dramatic performance and sipped at the coffee again.  “Well, I’m right in almost every other reality.”

Shiro laughed again, and Slav smiled lovingly into his drink.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Okay but maybe instead of spooning they fall asleep facing each other, Shiro needs to know that Slav is there for him and he frequently wakes up from nightmares and as soon as he sees Slav's sleeping face we feels much better. He goes back to sleep wrapped in Slav's arms and smiling softly to himself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/165447560242/okay-but-maybe-instead-of-spooning-they-fall)!

Shiro is falling.

He can’t tell how fast he’s descending through the murky black tar that surrounds him, engulfs him, penetrates deep into his every pore and orifice until he becomes one with the intrusive substance.

But he can hear the wicked cackling of the druids, the ever-present hum of their magic as they redirect it like lightning through his veins. He can feel it inside him, around him, everywhere at once and the laughter just increases until he can’t hear his own thoughts, and all he knows is pain and surrender.

The icky tar pushes him farther down, and Shiro can’t move, can’t speak, can’t see anything at all. He’s fighting, but he’s so, so weak, and he’s losing himself fast. Suddenly he doesn’t know his name, he can’t remember. He’s faceless, a mere tool of the Galra fashioned from alloy and blood. His only goal is survival, his only ambition is to kill.

And his last thought before he reaches the bottom of the tar pit is

_what am i?_

The thought jolts Shiro awake and he finds himself in yet another darkness. But this darkness is quiet, solemn, with soft lights around the edges from small Altean fixtures to guide him back into the present.

He’s in the castle.

His heart beats fast, pounding relentlessly against his chest as it desperately tries to escape, pushing away from the broken man who clings to it as his only reminder that he’s still human.

Through the pulse pounding like drums through his veins he barely recognizes the unsettled shifting of another body next to him. Shiro blinks, trying to focus his gaze but it’s still shrouded in tar and lightning and magic and he wants to scream, to push away the intruder and run far, far away where he might be safe.

“You’re safe now,” comes a sleepy voice, and suddenly Shiro can hear again, he can see again, and he can see Slav’s dark form rising and falling as he breathes evenly underneath him.

He can feel eight hands pressing into his sides, a few fingers here and there tracing patterns into his skin. His breath mingles with Slav’s as they breathe, Shiro struggling to keep in unison. He can’t feel his heart anymore, content to settle itself into mild comfort until the next time it wants to leave him for someone else.

“I’m…safe,” he breathes out in jagged phonemes, a reminder for himself and a reassurance for Slav.

Slav hums a little and wiggles under Shiro’s embrace, repositioning closer to him. He nestles his head under Shiro’s chin, and Shiro relaxes into the soft body wrapped around him.

He lets out a breath, feeling Slav’s antennae tickle at his nose, and he smiles despite himself, realizing finally,  _finally_ , that he really is safe. That he is free. That he’s never going back.

When he closes his eyes again, the darkness is welcoming and warm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "My shlav song is “wish I knew you” by the revivalists. I like the line 'wish I knew you when I was young' to mean 'I wish we had met when we were in a better time and place' bc it’s gotta be hard to be in love when you’re fighting a space war :o"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/165940740822/my-shlav-song-is-wish-i-knew-you-by-the)!
> 
> update (7/23/18): changed instances of Matt to Adam, in light of new canon information

It’s one of those nights when they’re both awake, shivering in the chill of the castle as they watch the stars pass them by. The bridge is always the best place to think, according to Shiro, and it’s easier to stay grounded when they’re together.

“My first love was a human named Adam,” he says, his voice no louder than the quiet beeping of various control panels. “We were in the same class at the Garrison. He was my engineer; I was his pilot. We were going to get married.”

“How does human courtship work?” Slav asks. He’s standing next to him, facing the wall of glass as he watches the ship move. If Shiro hadn’t heard him speak, he would have thought he was ignoring him.

“Traditionally, you pick someone up and take them on a date.” A fond smile grows on his face as he remembers some of the dates he spent with Adam. “Since we were at the Garrison, we usually just snuck out of our rooms to visit the planetarium. He brought a picnic basket with him once.”

“Fascinating.” Slav sounds distant, far-off in a different world even though he’s only standing a couple feet away.

Shiro chews at his lip. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering straight, Slav takes the more confusing route, as always. “There are approximately four thousand, three hundred eighty-one realities where I’m a human, or where you’re a Bytor. Did you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned something like that once or twice,” Shiro response slowly, trying to follow Slav’s reasoning. He’s gotten better at it since they first met, but he wasn’t quite as smart as him.

“I wonder in how many of those realities we knew each other before this war?” Slav asks. The question echoes off the metal of the castle, a painful reminder of the reality in which they live.

It’s nice, sometimes, to get lost in Slav’s theories and equations. It’s a good distraction from the impending threat of pain and loss that Shiro has become all too used to. It’s easy to forget the suffering he’s faced, the suffering he’s caused others, and just think about some other reality where war and death and Zarkon don’t exist.

“I wish I knew you when I was young,” Shiro says, almost a whisper. There’s a strain in his voice that indicates just how close he is to breaking down once again, but he holds himself upright and fights back the emotions that threaten to flood him.

Slav finally turns to face him. There’s an arch in his brow, an open and solemn curiosity. The vulnerability in his expression rips apart a few more of Shiro’s carefully constructed walls. His throat closes up, and he swallows thickly.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, before this whole thing started. I wish we had met before we knew what was out here.” Shiro chuckles. He’s shaking a little, but he forces himself rigid. “Maybe we could have been sitting in the planetarium, eating out of a picnic basket.”

“In some realities, we did,” Slav says.

“I’m jealous of those realities.”

“Me, too.”

“It would have been easier.” He wants to say more, but it’s getting harder to talk. Visions of Zarkon flash through his mind.

Slav takes this as a cue to move closer to him. He leans into his side and Shiro wraps an arm around him, using him as a support. It’s been so long since he had that kind of support, both physical and emotional.

“The last time I did this, it was with Adam,” Shiro says. there are tears spilling over his lashes now, but he chokes out the words as he finally lets go. “Thank you.”

Slav doesn’t say anything, but he nods his understanding.

They stay like that for a while, crying quietly as they remember their pasts and lament what could have been, in a different reality where there is no war, no death, no pain, no suffering.

They’ll make it work, somehow, and tomorrow they’ll pick up their fallen pieces and glue them back into the mask they wear, carry themselves as if nothing happened, smile through their fears and sorrows.

But tonight, they’re content to sit in pity, for each other and for themselves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "What if love wasn’t angsty for once and the shlav song is “something bout your love” by ali Robertson?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/165952547442/what-if-love-wasnt-angsty-for-once-and-the-shlav)!

Shiro takes Slav to a beach once. It’s small and alien; the sand is a greenish blue and the water almost violet, mixed with algae he’s not sure is toxic or not. But it’s a beach, and it’ll do for now. Until they can get to a real one. Until Shiro can bring Slav home.

Shiro points to the water. “That’s you.”

Slav lifts his head off the towel they’re both laying on, digging his hands into the teal sand to keep him upright. “What are you talking about? In exactly zero realities am I  _ever_  a body of water.”

Shiro laughs and shakes his head. “No no, that’s not what I meant. I was just thinking, I’m like the shore, and you’re that sea.”

There’s a moment of quiet in which Shiro watches the tide lap against the sand, crashing gently into the beach and dragging grains back into the water with it. The consistent motion soothes him, and he finds himself leaning into Slav.

“I don’t think I understand,” Slav admits, speaking over the waves.

“Well, you came crashing into my life, I guess.” He shrugs. “And we work better together. A beach isn’t a beach without both the sand and sea, just like we’re not the same without each other.”

Slav quirks an eyebrow and turns on his side to face Shiro. “That is the cheesiest thing I’ve heard you say. In any reality.”

A flush blooms across Shiro’s face, illuminating his scar in a rosy pink. “I-I was just thinking,” he sputters. “It’s a dumb analogy, anyway.”

Slav reaches a hand up to cup under Shiro’s chin, forcing him to keep steady eye contact. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Shiro rips away from Slav, his blush somehow growing brighter. Slav laughs, whole and heartily, and takes his hand. Shiro immediately relaxes into the touch.

“I never want to let go,” Shiro sighs as he watches the tide.

Slav squeezes Shiro’s hand. “Then don’t.”

“We have to go back soon.”

“That’s then; this is now.”

Shiro turns his head to face Slav. “I never thought I’d hear something like that from you.”

“You’re not the only one who’s changed since we began our relationship,” he says.

Shiro leans over and kisses Slav lightly on his cheek, smiling against his skin. “I’m never letting go.”

And he doesn’t.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "ever since they started dating shiro has had to spend WAY more time on the floor bc if that’s weird Slavs precious beak is that’s where he needs to be"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/166166529047/follow-up-to-the-shlav-squat-ever-since-they)!

“Slav, what are you doing.”

Slav turns his head to meet Shiro’s gaze. He’s on the floor, staring straight up at the ceiling when Shiro walks into their shared room, just…laying there. His arms are sprawled out at his side, four rows of limbs spread akimbo.

“Just thinking,” Slav replies finally. “There are infinite opportunities to stare at the stars, but I wanted a change.”

Shiro gazes up at the flat metal ceiling. It’s neutral and boring compared to the billions of stars and nebulae and asteroids and planets surrounding them. He understands what Slav means.

“Don’t you have anything to do?” Shiro asks with one raised eyebrow. He folds his arms across his chest as he waits for an answer.

“Nothing I haven’t already done in another reality.” It’s a vague non-answer, but Shiro doesn’t argue. Instead, he feels a quirk in his lips as they pull into a smile, and he huffs out a single chuckle.

“Well, then.”

And then he moves to lay down right next to Slav. Almost instantly Slav moves his arms out of the way so they can lay shoulder to shoulders, and Shiro doesn’t hesitate to snuggle up next to him. “Mind if I join you?”

“You already have,” Slav points out. But he doesn’t reject him; he would never.

They lay in silence for a while, just staring at the blank, colorless, unexciting ceiling of their room. It’s like a breath of fresh air amidst the constant space battles.

Shiro breaks the silence. “This is nice.”

Slav just hums and moves closer to Shiro, a feat he’d thought impossible with their current proximity.

Then Shiro turns his head away from the taupe metal and toward Slav. He pecks a quick kiss against his cheek, and he feels Slav go rigid next to him. Too sudden.

“I'm still not used to that in this reality…” he admits, but his tone drips with humor and acceptance.

“We’ll get there,” Shiro assures him.

They say nothing more. They both know they will get there, get over their shaky beginning. So instead they stare at the ceiling, thinking about each other rather than the raging war outside their room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Anytime Slav can’t do something that shiro can, Shiro says 'huh must be bc you don’t have any robot arms' 'Maybe you should get a robot arm and then come talk to me :///'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/166241296097/so-im-going-thru-the-shlav-tag-as-usual-and-i-see)!
> 
> originally based on [this post](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/165742732342/every-time-shiro-messes-something-up-slav-blames)

It’s this thing between them that started way back when Shiro first rescued Slav from Beta Traz. Back when they didn’t get along. Most things about their relationship have changed since then, but this was…definitely not one of them.

“Slav, can you help me out? I can’t reach the sugar,” Shiro calls to his boyfriend. They’re preparing breakfast for the rest of the team, but he’s just a little too short to reach the top cabinet.

There’s a light clatter of plates as Slav turns to face him, one eyebrow quirked and a soft twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll bet if you had  _two_  robot arms, you wouldn’t be having this problem.”

Shiro sighs and puts his head into his metallic Galra hand. No, some things never change.

* * *

“Shiro!” Slav whines from another room. “Help me!”

His muffled tone is urgent enough that Shiro is up and out the door in ticks, making his way down the corridor into the common room. As soon as he passes into the room he stops dead in his tracks, giving his brain time to process the scene before him.

The cushions are off the couch, for one, thrown haphazardly into something that almost looks like a fort. Well, it  _would_ look like a fort if it hadn’t collapsed in on itself, toppled over several bodies.

Said bodies are his teammates: Hunk, Lance, Pidge, Allura, and surprisingly Keith. They’re lying on top of each other, piled under the pillows and cushions as they giggle, their hair a mess and their limbs flopping all over the place as they struggle to remain in one place.

He doesn’t even notice Slav until he hears a strangled “help!” from directly underneath the pile of bodies. He’s writhing around, trying desperately to break free, but he doesn’t sound scared at least.

“Don’t do it, Shiro,” Lance warns.

Hunk chimes in, “This is his punishment for knocking down the fort!”

“Shiro, please,” Slav whines again, and Shiro takes a moment to take it all in. He has two choices now, but he can’t help but feel amused at the unlikely situation in which his boyfriend found himself.

Then he makes his decision, and a short bark of laughter escapes him. “Huh,” he says with mock appraisal of the scenario, “I’ll bet if you had a robot arm, you could easily get out of this yourself.”

The room goes silent and still as they realize what Shiro is saying, and then it bursts into action as Slav begins shouting.

“You know I was only joking, right?” he cries, syllables broken as he struggles underneath the paladins.

Shiro stands firm in his conviction, sarcasm dripping tangibly off his tongue with every word. “Wow, a robot arm would really come in handy right about now, wouldn’t it?”

A whimper, and then: “Shiro, you wouldn’t just leave me like this, would you?”

Shiro is already turning his back on them, lifting a hand up casually to take his leave. “Come talk to me when you have that robot arm; maybe we could compare mechanics.”

He can barely contain his laughter when he steps out of the room, but it’s drowned out by the Slav’s yelling and pleading for Shiro’s return.

Maybe things haven’t changed completely, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with it every once in a while.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: have you considered Slav wrapping his whole body around one of Shiro’s legs? Or clinging straight up and down one side of his body, 8 hands grasping his clothes to hold on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/166280246782/we-all-talk-about-slav-riding-on-shiros-shoulders)!
> 
> at this point i'm basically writing a drabble a day oml... i have such blessed followers :')

Slav is wrapped around Shiro’s shoulders as per usual as they make their way down the hallway. Slav’s fingers mess around with Shiro’s hair, pulling and twisting on strands to the effect that he’s starting to think that Slav is somehow braiding it. It’s calming, really, and Shiro finds himself relaxed as he meanders through the castle.

Then Slav draws out a low hum. It’s something quizzical, thoughtful, and Shiro raises an eyebrow that he knows Slav can’t see.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asks, reaching up a hand to grasp at one of Slav’s. He swings it playfully as best he can in their awkward position.

Slav doesn’t answer verbally, but rather drops his hands from Shiro’s hair and scrambles down Shiro’s body until he’s clinging to just one side of him, all eight hands tightly grasping his shirt.

“What are you–?”

His body falls to the side with the newly uneven weight, but he’s able to catch himself before he runs into the wall.

“No, that’s not right,” Slav mutters, and then he clambers into a different position, shimmying his body further down until he’s completely wrapped around Shiro’s leg.

“Slav, this isn’t going to work,” he points out as he struggles to lift that leg. He manages to trudge it forward once, but he decides it’s just not worth the effort required to move them both.

“I suppose you’re right, for once,” he says with a long, exasperated sigh before climbing back up Shiro’s body and letting his own fall back around his shoulders.

“What was that even about?” Shiro asks, equal parts annoyance and amusement.

“I thought about trying something new.” He can feel Slav shrug against his neck.

Shiro rubs his hand along his chin as he ponders that. “Huh, weird.”

“What’s weird?” Slav sounds defensive, but not upset.

“I guess I just never pegged you to be the impulsive type,” Shiro says, a light tease in his voice. “You’re really opening up. Or maybe you just hit your head really hard and we need to get you to a space hospital.”

Slav scoffs. “Oh please, the situation was hardly life-threatening. I just wanted to test my hypotheses.”

Shiro hums. “You realize there was like, a sixty percent chance I could have tripped and fell right? That’s pretty high risk factor.”

“Using statistics against me?” Slav says as he reaches his hands back into Shiro’s hair, and he takes that as a sign to keep walking. “That’s pretty low.”

Shiro shrugs, lifting Slav’s body up and down with the motion. “I learned from the best, after all.”

Slav tugs on Shiro’s white tuft, but he laughs nonetheless. “It’s all right, though.”

“What is?”

Slav leans his head onto Shiro’s, nuzzling his beak into his hair. “I quite prefer this position, anyway.”


	11. on the edge of tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't belong here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/167132220272/on-the-edge-of-forever)!

A few months after they all return to Earth, people stop asking them questions.

They stop asking about the Alteans’ pointy ears and their strange, glowing markings. They stop asking where Shiro got a mechanical prosthetic. They stop asking why a green, eight-armed alien is never far behind the group.

They’ve had enough publicity. People know about the group of space explorers who saved the universe with the help of Voltron. They recognize the faces plastered all over the world, humans singing praises for the group of misfit heroes. It helps that more and more aliens have migrated to earth, displaced from the war with nowhere left to go.

The best part about this is that finally, Shiro can go to the grocery store without getting weird looks.

So he takes Slav out one day because they’re running low on tomatoes and pasta (spaghetti is Slav’s favorite human food). They both ignore the awestruck stares that follow them through the aisles, the trip just mundane enough that Shiro can zone out while he collects a few extra treats.

That is, until a stranger moves in front of their cart, their eyes narrowed as they stare between Shiro and Slav. They don’t say anything at first, and he can nearly feel Slav’s anxiety radiating off of him under the scrutiny.

“Can we help you?” Shiro asks, if only to move them along. Autographs, pictures, whatever they wanted, Shiro would give it to them, if only it meant he and Slav would be left alone.

But the stranger doesn’t do any of that. Instead they continue staring, dark eyes piercing through them, until finally they speak. “You don’t belong here.”

Shiro feels a possessive, defensive anger bubble up inside him, and he gets the urge to reach out and hold Slav closer to him, shield him from the affront. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, malice in his throat and rage on his tongue.

“Both of you,” the stranger clarifies. “You don’t belong here.”

The rage dies down, but a cautious suspicion keeps tight hold over him. “Where would you say we belong then?”

The stranger is quiet for a moment, just staring, glancing between the two until Shiro thinks they’re just never going to answer. Then they point to Slav and finally answer. “You, at his side, as if you’ve always been there and always will be.”

Shiro can’t help it; he chances a look at Slav and sees he’s gone tense, refusing to look back at him. “And you,” the stranger continues, “You belong…in another place. Among the stars.”

They shrug and sigh, but they don’t wait around long enough to hear their reply. Without saying another word, they continue along their path, leaving Shiro and Slav speechless in their wake.

And then the two of them look at each other, silent because they know it’s true, that they don’t belong here.

They don’t belong in this mundane world of routine and inaction. Not when there’s an entire universe waiting for them. But they can’t go back anymore.

So instead, Shiro reaches out and pulls Slav closer to him.

“What are you–?” he protests as he’s jerked toward the cart.

“Putting you back where you belong,” Shiro answers simply, and they begin walking again, both pushing the shopping cart this time. “At my side, like you’ve always been and always will be.”


End file.
